


the boy's not (completely) dead

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Jon Snow, F/M, Jealousy, One-Sided Attraction, Or Is It?, Protective Jon Snow, Tumblr Prompt, Warg Jon Snow, book!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Tumblr Prompt:  could you do a book!verse jonsa dialogue prompt? (“What Jon do you remember, sister? Stop pretending we were close as children– stop pretending there is any affection between us.” – by dark, "wolfish," post-resurrection jon to sansa) thank you. 😊Second chapter added for this prompt--->could i request a halloween prompt but book!verse about post-resurrection, wolfish jon & sansa? ‘get some sleep, i’ll keep watch‘
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 80
Kudos: 236





	1. Chapter 1

It’s always with him; the anger, the guilt, the self-loathing. How can it not be? He shouldn’t be alive. He didn’t ask to be brought back. He’s haunted by the abomination which brought it about; the witch’s ecstasy and the screams of a child.

He does not mean to lash out at her but it’s so easy. She’s always within reach. His rage is always bubbling just beneath the surface. And, she does not fear him like the others do.

_“Why are you being so cruel? You’re my brother and…”_

_“Half-brother.”_

_“Fine, half-brother. I still thought you might care. The Jon I remember was…”_

_“What Jon do you remember, sister? Stop pretending we were close as children. Stop pretending there is any affection between us.”_

She’d looked like he had slapped her and a flicker of remorse had shot up his spine, quickly squashed like a beetle.

He’d been so angry, not necessarily with her, but her pretty tears, the way she’d softly kissed his cheek and whispered how she did not wish to marry that knight, didn’t want to be a pawn in Littlefinger’s schemes, had brought it out. He cannot stand the notion of her marrying another. And, like a jealous lover might, he’d grown mocking.

_“You’re wrong, Jon. I loved you and you loved me in our way, didn’t we? A pack looks after its own.”_

_“I was never truly part of your pack though, was I? I’m the bastard, never a Stark.”_

_“You are to me,”_ she’d told him before turning away.

All night the words and her hurt expression had tormented him. He was not the same but she was right. There had been love of a sort between them all, back when he was that boy. He thinks that boy must be dead.

“You-you k-killed him?”

She’s dismayed by his actions. He can’t imagine why. She’d told Jon she hadn’t wanted to marry him. Why did she tell him that if she didn’t want him to do something about it? Wasn’t that what an elder brother, even a half one, was supposed to do?

He’s completely unapologetic as he wipes his sword clean. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” he asks with a shrug.

He could laugh at the mixture of vexation and fear upon her face. She does not know what to make of him. That’s fine. He doesn’t know what to make of her either.

The humming is back, the low sound of blood pulsing through his corpse. Killing makes it easier to hear. He shakes his head, trying to force it away.

The humming is better than the fool and his mouth though. One minute the knight had been blathering away, telling one and all around the campfire how he looked forward to bedding her on the morrow.

An off-handed remark followed by a taunt was all it had taken to have the knight drawing his sword. A matter of honor though there was nothing honorable in it. Baiting the fool had been too simple for that. There was no satisfaction in the killing to be honest. That had been too simple as well.

The Vale knights she’d brought with her had been shocked, outraged. The free folk at his back had chuckled and given one another knowing looks. Someone may challenge him over it. Let them come and try. Someone else will probably seek her hand. Good luck to them if they dare. Jon secretly likes the humming sound and Longclaw is very sharp.

“But…”

“He was no fit mate for you.”

“Mate for me? Jon, we are a pack but not truly wolves.”

“Oh but I am, sweet sister.”

He rises and stalks from the tree where he’s finished cleaning his sword, heads back to his tent. He knows she’ll find him there later.

Inside of Ghost, he was free of the concerns that face him as a man. He could hunt what he wanted. He could sleep, piss and roam wherever he chose. No one cared what the wolf did so long as he wasn’t coming for them. If he’d found another like him, a she-wolf in heat, he could’ve mounted her if it pleased him.

That is not the case now, more’s the pity. Is that what he scents around her? Is it a heat? No, he is an animal to want her the way he does. She is not. She cannot know how far gone he is.

The abbreviated day dwindles. She’s been busy soothing ruffled feathers. She’s good at that. She calms his rages as well. She is the still water that flattens his raging seas.

She comes to him as she always does, takes a seat by his fire as if nothing happened earlier, talks of their plans for the following day, the weary march towards Winterfell and war. She’s unaware of how she affects him. Or perhaps she is.

“He was no true knight,” she says quietly at last. “He would’ve made me a poor husband.”

He nods and continues watching her, not bothering to disguise the hunger in his eyes for anything other than what it is.

She’s brushing out her hair, humming under her breath. She thinks she’s safe in his company. She does not see the danger he poses, does not see his dark heart, his sick longings.

Or she chooses not to.

Perhaps she has no reason to fear him. He has not acted…yet.

 _Sister_.

The word tastes queer inside his mouth. She was never a sister to him the way Arya was. They did not share secrets as children. They did not comfort each other’s hurts. What hurts did she even have back then? He doesn’t know. She was always…perfect. Perfect little Sansa and he was only her half-brother, the one she typically acknowledged last when she did at all.

But, she’d held onto him so tightly when they’d found each other. She’d said they were a pack, a family, that they belong together.

He believes they belong together but in a different manner. His longings…she cannot know of them.

She stifles a yawn as the fire is dying down and the sounds of the camp grow quieter. “I’m tired.”

“Lay down and rest,” he tells her.

She has her own tent but she prefers his, prefers being close. It’s why she’s always within reach.

The humming grows louder, the blood pulses through his corpse and he watches her slipping off towards dreams. He’s forgotten what regular dreams are like. His are all with the wolf. He’ll watch her sleep as he has more than once since they’ve reunited and try to remember what he once dreamt of.

“You’re still Jon, no matter what you do. You’re still Jon to me,” she whispers on the brink of slumber.

“Aye, that is my name.”

He is Jon and he is not. They killed the boy and yet he lives. He is her half-brother…but he wants her for his mate.


	2. the wolf keeps watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adding to this since I'm pretty sure it's the same anon who sent this tumblr prompt--->
> 
> could i request a halloween prompt but book!verse about post-resurrection, wolfish jon & sansa? ‘get some sleep, i’ll keep watch‘

“Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“Watch? Do you think we’re in danger? We’ve an army with us.”

“Yes, two armies, neither very fond of each other.” His Wildlings, her Vale knights. They don’t like each other but they’ll both be necessary to defeat the Boltons, the malignant growth that they seek to uproot from the heart of Winterfell.

She gives him a stubborn look. “You need to rest, too.”

“I’ll rest later.”

He will. He’ll rest later. He’ll rest after he takes care of some things.

She finishes brushing out her hair in the large tent that is now theirs. She no longer bothers with the pretense of her own. She’s here every night when it’s time to rest. She says she feels safer close to her brother. _Her half-brother_. She’s here every night to tempt him, to remind him of how very wrong he is.

She kisses him softly on the brow. He acts as if he’s barely tolerating her sweet gesture. He cannot show her how it affects him, how she’s his weakness. She likely already sees through his act anyway.

“Don’t kill anyone while I’m asleep,” she murmurs into his hair before turning away to lie down.

Oh, she knows him too well. “He was not worthy of you,” he answers gruffly.

He can picture the smile forming on her lips that she won’t let him see. She knows what he is, how he feels, doesn’t she? Perhaps she’s as unnatural as he is now.

_No, she’s not like me. She lost her wolf. She didn’t become one._

He waits until she drifts off, until her breathing slows and evens out.

Then, he slips into Ghost.

_Mud. Snow. Horses._

_Trees. Fire. Men._

He slinks along the perimeter of the camp, watching. His keen ears listen for danger. His keener snout smells it. It surrounds them. There are traitors in this camp.

In the surrounding forest though, a sound catches his attention. Wolves. A Pack. Curious, he goes to investigate.

They are a small pack, two males and one female. The alpha is circling the female who is in heat. The other male stands to the side, unwanted. All three are hungry. It’s been a while since they’ve eaten. Game is scarce with the snows and the men tramping about frightening off the deer and hare alike. These three aren’t brave enough to go after the men or horses. They’re smart enough to know they’d lose unless they could catch one (or two) alone.

When they see Ghost, they freeze.

Quiet growls as they watch each other, waiting to see if they will fight him, submit or leave.

Just as the little pack has decided to leave the direwolf alone, someone’s blundering into their midst, two someones.

Yes, Jon thinks in grim triumph as he recognizes them. Instinct tells him everything he wishes to know of why these two men have slipped away from the camp tonight to talk.

When he crawls into the little camp bed behind her soon after, Sansa says nothing at first though he knows she’s awake. She clasps his rough hand in her smaller one, drags it over her shift-covered hip and pulls it up to her chest to rest between her breasts as she holds on tight. She wants to hold onto him and wants him to hold her. This is how she likes sleeping now, snug tight in his arms. _Our pack._

“Get some rest. I’m still keeping watch,” he tells her.

“You’re lying down with me now.”

“I can keep watch like this, too.”

She hums sleepily in response to his strange logic. It’s his turn to kiss her softly. He chooses her cheek, right past her ear. Her skin is smooth and warm. She smells sweet. He can feel her cheeks pulling into a grin. If he kissed her lips, would she gasp? Would she shove him away? Or would she welcome it?

He won’t find out tonight.

Just like he won’t find out if she could taste the blood on his tongue if he kissed her. Is the blood there or does he only imagine it?

One thing he doesn’t imagine though is that when the camp wakes tomorrow, they’ll be short two men, two traitors.

“I’m sorry to not do as you said earlier,” he whispers in Sansa’s ear when she’s asleep once more, “But I’m watching over you now. The wolves were hungry…and those two deserved what they got.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No plans to extend this further for now but you never can tell :)

**Author's Note:**

> I need to write something fluffy after this 😅.


End file.
